


I'm not Crazy, I'm just a Little Unwell

by felicityollies



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, F/M, Hallucinations, Hearing Voices, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8004889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicityollies/pseuds/felicityollies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>lies, truth, reality and fiction... the lines are blurred and oliver queen can’t distinguish between what’s real and what’s fake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so I had this idea 900 years ago, but i never really thought I was going to write it so thank you Anita (yellowflicker09011996) for giving me a little push and a lot of help. It’s a lot darker than my usual stuff, which might be saying a lot. Anyway be warned if you don’t like dark themes i wouldn’t read it.

_**You're nothing but a danger to everyone around you.** _

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut tight. He willed the nagging thoughts, the voices, to leave him alone for once. His head throbbed. He'd had a headache for what seemed like weeks. It just wouldn't stop. Wouldn't let up. Some days it made him nauseous. 

Letting out a shaky breath, he leaned towards the window, his eyes slowly opening again. The sun had barely begun to rise, thankfully. He didn't know if he would have been able to face the sun. Too bright; too full of hope. 

He could still hear his sister's voice in his head. 

_"Stop, Ollie! Stop!"_

_His hands shook. A sick confusion and worry settled into his stomach._

_"I'm helping," he had said cautiously._

_"No, you're hurting."_

_**All you do is hurt.**_

He ran shaky fingers through his hair. What the hell was wrong with him? Swallowing thickly, he ran his hands down his face. He remembered his friend had tried to calm him. She promised that he was okay, that these ideas were all in his head. No, she wasn't his friend. She was… 

He gave a frustrated sigh. That wasn't real. At least part of it wasn't. His thoughts, the voices, his confusion, and hallucinations were why he was here. Where was here? Asylum wasn't the right word, no, it wasn't that harsh. He didn't like the term Psych Ward either, but he guessed that was the best way to describe it. 

For the most part he was confined to his room. A stark white bedroom, no personality, and an all-around dreary feeling. There was a desk, a wardrobe, twin sized bed, and a door that lead to an equally white and sterilized-feeling bathroom. 

No cords, nothing hanging from the ceiling, nothing that he could use to harm himself. Not that he wanted to. Well, he would be lying if he said the thought hadn't crossed his mind. Between the nightmares and everything else that plagued him the idea of ending it all pulled at his thoughts. It was what really pushed him to check himself into this place. 

His friend, the sweet and bubbly blonde, she cried when he told her. He hated when she cried. 

"Dammit," he hissed, "She's not my friend." 

He hated this; he made these things up in his head and they seemed so real, but they weren't. It made him so angry and confused. 

There was a knock at the door that caused him to look up. He watched as it creaked open, but let his gaze turn to the window. The sun was up now. He had lost time again. It happened a lot. His thoughts consumed him and he couldn't keep track of the minutes going by. 

"Oliver," a woman spoke. She had the softest sweetest voice that always seemed to calm him. "I thought you might be up." 

"Dr. Smoak," he mumbled. 

The bubbly blonde he kept confusing as his friend. She was his doctor, the only person he had opened up to. 

"It's okay to call me Felicity," she said, grabbing onto the chair near his desk and dragging towards the bed where he sat. 

"You always say that." 

"You remember," she gave a soft smile, "That's a good sign." 

**_She's lying._**

He swallowed again. "I had a dream again." 

"Not a nightmare?" 

Shaking his head, he continued, "I was trying to save the city. I could hear your voice in my head." 

Felicity seemed hopeful for a moment before he added, "I know it's not real." 

He didn't understand her expressions or reactions to the things he said. At one point he thought he was good at reading people, but now he wasn't sure. He never seemed to get it right. 

"That was all. I only slept for an hour… I think," he gave another frustrated sigh, "I don't know." 

"It's okay," she said quietly. 

"No, it's not!" 

"Oliver," she tried to be cautious. 

"I can't remember things. I can't get these thoughts straight. I can't stop hearing these voices in my head. I can't do anything!" He climbed from the bed and moved closer to her. 

He didn't want to hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted, but he was so damn frustrated. His chest moved up and down with each shaking breath he took. 

"Why do you always think everything is going to be okay!?" he shouted. 

Before he could put his hands on her the door opened wide. A large man came through and grabbed onto Felicity. An orderly named John Diggle. He always seemed to be on hand. 

Another man came through, this one holding onto a syringe. 

"I'm sorry," he choked out, "I'm sorry." he repeated it over and over again. 

"Mr. Queen you need to take a step back and sit down," the other man said. 

He kept repeating his apologies as he watched Felicity and John leave. Her soft sobs hit his ears. His heart ached. He hated that sound, hated it, but he always seemed to make the beautiful doctor cry. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered one last time. 

He felt the needle going in. It wasn't the first time he had to be sedated and it wouldn't be the last. He just wished that things were going to get better. Felicity seemed so hopeful that he would get better, but he knew it wasn't going to happen. It didn't matter how much either of them wished it. 

_**You're a danger to her and a danger to everyone around you.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 84 years later.... but uh heavy heavy stuff y’all
> 
> Warnings: mental illness, ptsd, suicidal thoughts, and brief physical violence.

Oliver let out a long shaky breath. It was another bad day. He hadn’t even left his room, skipping group therapy and his usual one on one session with his other doctor. Dr. Harlen wasn’t his favorite person. The man tried to be helpful, but he would much rather spend his time talking to Dr. Smoak. He didn’t think that she would help him that day.

The intrusive thoughts hammered at his mind. It made the headache between his eyes that much worse. He had the dream again about being a hero. Why wouldn’t it leave him? He kept seeing himself saving lives side by side with a team. The sound of Dr. Smoak’s voice in his ear, leading him and helping him.

He wanted it to stop. It wasn’t real. Just a dream that seemed to taunt his very being. He was a monster. One that had hurt his sister and almost gotten her killed. He remembered standing over her body, blood all over the floor, and a gaping wound in her chest. Did he do it? He wasn’t sure. But the echo of Thea’s voice in his head, telling him to stop, was enough to give him a definitive answer.

**_We trusted you. You asked us to trust you and we trusted you!_ **

He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to tell if the voice was a memory or something darker. It sounded like Felicity, but that didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” he smacked the sides of his head once.

His chest moved up and down with heavy breaths. He tried to calm himself, but it was so hard. Memories and delusions alike tugged at his brain. Pain, a burning on his shoulder blade, scalding hot, and unbearable. The rattle of chains. The image of people dying at his hand or in his arms. What was real? What was fake? 

“Who am I, what am I?” his body trembled.

“Are you going to let me in today?” a voice out in the hall pulled his attention momentarily.

“Lower your voice,” Dr. Harlen muttered.

Oliver pushed himself up and slowly moved towards the door.

He was pretty sure that the other person was Dr. Smoak, but their voices dropped into a hushed whisper. A few words reached his ears, including husband. She sounded so upset. Something in his chest ached to console her. 

It was just his dreams toying with his thoughts and feelings.

He backed away from the door, feeling more confused than he did only moments ago. Sighing, he sat down on the edge of the bed. His hands gripped his white sheets tightly. He swallowed thickly and willed his stomach to stop churning.

A knock at the door caused his head to throb.

“C-come in,” he stammered.

Dr. Smoak walked into the room. She was alone again, but he didn’t know why. Last time she had visited him he had almost hurt her. He wasn’t going to do that this time. He couldn’t.

“How’re you doing today, Oliver?” she asked quietly.

“Bad,” he mumbled.

She grabbed onto a chair and pulled it close to his bed. He wished she wouldn’t.

“What’s wrong?”

“My head,” he kept his eyes away from her, “These thoughts…” he shook his head, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” he gripped the bed tighter.

There was a heartbeat of silence between them. He wasn’t sure what to say or do. His mind was a mess and it was getting harder to deal with. He couldn’t understand why his own mind was against him. This delusion of being a hero, being a friend, and a family man. It wasn’t fair.

“What happened to your husband?” he asked finally looking at her.

She seemed taken aback by his question.

“I heard you say something about him to Dr. Harlen,” he mumbled.

She twisted the wedding band on her finger, “He’s sick,” her voice wavered, “His head… well he doesn’t remember me anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he looked away again.

“It’s okay.. he’s getting help,” she whispered.

He could feel her eyes burning into him. His chest tightened uncomfortably.

“Maybe you should go,” he said, staring at the floor.

“Why?” she stood suddenly.

“I want to be alone,” he stated.

She moved closer to him, “Please, Oliver, talk to me,” she reached for his hand.

“I don’t want to,” he snapped.

He looked up at her only to be met with pleading eyes. Those deep blues, begging him to say something, to do something, but he didn’t understand.

“Stop,” he pulled away from her.

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like that. I can’t give you anything!” he shouted.

He couldn’t stop himself. The anger, confusion, and frustration bubbled up and boiled over.

“Oliver, please,” she begged.

“You’re the doctor,” he hissed, “Not me. You’re not helping. He’s not helping,” he screamed in frustration.

“But I’m not, I’m not a doctor.”

“Don’t lie to me!” his hands flew forward and he shoved her hard enough for her to fall backwards onto his floor.

In an instant he was on top of her, ready to fight her as if she were the enemy. One of the thugs on the streets in his dreams. She closed her eyes tight as his hand hovered over her face. He stopped, slowly pulling his hand back, but not moving to stop pinning her.

He looked down at his trembling hands. What was he doing?

_**You’re hurting people again. All you do is hurt. Look at her. Look at what you did.** _

The door swung open and he was being dragged off of Felicity.

“I told you it wasn’t safe to be in here alone,” John Diggle said, helping her up.

“Not safe,” Oliver repeated.

He didn’t even feel like he was in his own body anymore. No, he was watching everything transpire and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I was handling it,” Felicity said.

“Of course you were,” Diggle muttered.

“No more visitations for awhile,” Dr. Harlen said, “I warned you that if you pushed him that it would only make things worse.”

He was pulled back into his bed, a syringe full of sedative shot into him, and restraints tugged onto him. There wasn’t a point in fighting. He deserved it.

Felicity, John, and Dr. Harlen left. He was alone again, but he could feel the sedative pulling him under. Closing his eyes, he let out a shaky breath. At least his mind would be quiet soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets right into the heavy stuff right away, so if you don’t want to read the _dark dark_ shit then skip down until the first paragraph that starts with _**Felicity**_.

Her heart thudded in her ears. Blood pumping. Adrenaline rushing. She found him in their apartment. Alone and scared. Felicity knelt down in front of him where he sat curled up on the floor. Her hands found his face. He looked so vacant. The light behind his eyes was gone. There was sadness and fear instead, but he wasn’t with her. She didn’t know how explain it… the lights were on, but nobody was home?

“Oliver,” she pleaded, “Talk to me.”

“All I do is hurt,” he mumbled, his voice monotone, “I hurt you.”

“No, Oliver…”

His hands slipped into his lap and pulled out a gun. She hadn’t seen it before.

“I want it to stop,” his voice cracked.

She swallowed thickly, “Please give that to me.”

“It’s the only way.”

She reached for it, but he pushed her back. The gun lifted to his head.

“No!” she screamed, lunging for him.

A shot rang out through their apartment.

Felicity woke with a start, sweat dripping down her face. In her dreams, she was never able to save him. Reality was, she got there in time to stop him and get him to a hospital. Almost every night, she had the same nightmare. That she wasn’t able to stop him and she lost him forever. Some days the nightmares felt more like reality.

Her husband was lost to her. In the days after his almost attempt he started to forget things until she was just another one of his doctors. Dr. Harlen said it was part of his PTSD, his trauma, and depression. He had hallucinations and delusions to the point of blurring the lines between what was real and what wasn’t. His doctor also told her that Oliver viewed her as a healer, as someone he could trust, and thus he gave her the role of doctor.

None of it made any sense to her. She’d tried spending countless nights awake, researching everything she could, but it was hard to find cases that related to Oliver. Everyone was different when it came to mental health and that was the problem. She just wanted her Oliver back. She needed her husband back.

Climbing out of bed, she started to get ready for the day. She knew she needed to go into work. The CEO of Smoak Technologies couldn’t stay MIA, though god she wanted to. She didn’t give a damn about anything except what was going on with Oliver. If she didn’t go to work that day, she knew that she was going to get a reminder from John, “You have to keep living your life. That’s what he would want.”

Still, it couldn’t hurt to stop by to visit Oliver for a little bit. She’d been banned from visitations since Oliver had attacked her, but a good chunk of time had passed. If Dr. Harlen didn’t let her in now, she was going to raise hell.

“Do not push him, Mrs. Queen,” he warned her, “If his memories are to come back they have to come on their own. Not by force.”

She nodded slowly, “Alright.”

Playing along with his delusions was something that she didn’t want to do, but if it helped him get to a better place, then fine.

“Has he left his room at all?” she asked as they walked down the hall.

Another patient bumped into her, knocking her shoulder. She stumbled slightly. Looking back at him, he didn’t even seem to notice. She shook her head and looked to Dr. Harlen.

“We tried to bring him out for group therapy, but… it didn’t end well, he’s been restrained for the most part.”

“What happened?”

“A fight with another patient,” he sighed.

“God,” she closed her eyes and shook her head.

They arrived at his door. She knocked gently and waited for him to tell her to come in. Inside, it was like Dr. Harlen said. He was restrained to his bed again.

“Dr. Smoak,” he said quietly.

She nodded and closed the door.

“I thought you left me,” he looked away from her.

“I would never,” she grabbed a chair and moved to sit down beside him.

“Really?” he still didn’t look at her.

“No place I’d rather be than right here,” she bit down on her lip.

He frowned as if he were thinking hard about something, but as soon as the thought was there it was gone.

“How’re you feeling today?” she asked.

He let out a shuddering breath, “Tired,” he sighed, “My head hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” she watched him carefully.

“I had a dream,” he looked up into her eyes, “About the beach.”

“The beach?”

“Warm sand between my toes….. a beautiful woman in a pink bikini beside me,” his eyes dragged over her.

Their honeymoon in Bali.

He laughed bitterly, “It was cruel.”

She could see in his face that he was getting upset again. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, “How is your husband?”

“He’s uh…. still sick and a little tied up at the moment,” she said softly.

Oliver tugged at the restraints, “I know the feeling.”

He looked away from her and sighed.

“I miss him.”

“No offense, Dr. Smoak,” he said, still looking at the wall, “If he doesn’t miss you too he’s crazy.”

She sniffled and looked down at her hands in her lap, “I know.”

“I upset you again,” his voice sounded strained.

“No, I’m fine,” she reassured him.

“You aren’t even looking at me,” he said, “I hurt everyone.”

“No, you don’t,” she forced her gaze up.

He searched her eyes, but didn’t seem to believe her.

“I promise,” she stood, reaching out to him.

She hesitated before using the back of her hand to stroke his cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut again as he relaxed under her touch.

“Felicity,” his voice was so soft, barely a whisper.

Her heart stopped. For a moment she held her breath and hoped for more words to come out of his mouth.

But the only thing that came was, “I’m tired.”

With a sigh, she gave another gentle stroke to his stubbled cheek, “Get some rest.”

“Okay.”

She wanted desperately to lean down and kiss him, but she thought it might be pushing it. “I’ll see you later, Oliver.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always let me know what y'all think!  
> tumblr: felicityollies  
> twitter: vigilantecatnip


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